


Thief of Stars and Hearts

by voidknight



Category: Kirby (Video Games), Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Consensual Possession, Getting to Know Each Other, Kirby: Squeak Squad, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Body, and also, dark nebby deserves more content, i just wanted to write about dark nebula and then it turned into this, is that the tag for gijinka fics, very much so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidknight/pseuds/voidknight
Summary: Bored out of their mind after finally being freed from their box prison (and having their ass kicked by Kirby, twice), Dark Nebula decides to pay a visit to their new friend (?), Daroach. Not because they kinda liked sharing a body with him or anything. Or because they actually quite enjoy his company. Just for the hell of it.





	Thief of Stars and Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> rarepair time!
> 
> i was having feels about dark nebula being such a weak boss fight, and then... yeah.
> 
> (also, i already said this in the tags, but this is another gijinka fic!)

It’s been kind of a wacky week for you—and, you must admit, one entirely unbefitting a (former) Lord of the Underworld. If you were anyone other than who you are, last week’s events might’ve cast you off into oblivion forever—which, honestly, might not have been too bad. Better than an eternity trapped in that tiny chest. But, fortunately for you, you’ve gotten rather good at cheating Death.

The thing is, after spending an absolutely outrageous amount of time in an almost-cataleptic state, sleeping without dreaming, you have pretty much no idea what to do with yourself now that you’re free. You could check up on some old friends, perhaps? You wonder what Morpho Knight’s doing these days. Taken over some of your duties, you’d imagine. Is Zero still technically your leader? You kind of really don’t want to deal with him at all. So instead, you turn your thoughts to some of your most recent memories—your sudden freedom, and subsequent defeat.

The event that pulled you out of your stupor, you recall, was the feeling of being jostled around—the chest containing you was being carried somewhere, for the first time in quite a while. It’s like you were picked up one day, and then never really stopped moving. Of course, you could reasonably assume from this new development that someone would soon open the chest, and you would finally be free. And then, you’d have to find some way to repay them, of course.

Sometimes, when the world outside is quiet enough, you can hear snatches of dialogue from your captors. There’s a high voice, a low voice, a nasal voice, and finally, a smooth, even voice, who seems to be the leader of the bunch.

You learn a couple things from all this eavesdropping. First, the people who’ve taken your chest are a band called the Squeaks, and their leader is named Daroach. They are on the run from a terrifying, bloodthirsty creature called Kirby, who is out to get them and steal all their treasure. Obviously these people are in need of a little assistance. If you could speak, you would cry out to them—release you, and you will help rid them of their troubles. But alas, you’re just smoke and star-shaped dust. No room in here to transform into any of your proper forms.

Another bout of furious activity, and suddenly your chest has fallen into another’s hands. This one doesn’t speak around you quite as much. You think he keeps the chest heavily guarded. But just when you’re beginning to miss the Squeaks—all their fun banter that lets you learn a little more about the world you’ve missed while trapped in here—a lot happens at once. You hear the familiar sound of battle, the noise of a mask shattering, and then their approaching footsteps, shouts, clattering as your box is tossed around.

There’s the click of a lock, and suddenly, light streams into your dark prison. A face stares down at you—a handsome fellow with long, mousy brown hair, keen eyes, and a large, red, wide-brimmed hat. You assume this is Daroach. His smug grin quickly turns to a frown, and then to a look of frightened surprise as you begin to pour out of the box as fast as you can. At last! At last, you’re free!! Dear god, you could kiss him right now, but you don’t think you’re strong enough to sustain any corporeal form right now, let alone a humanoid one. So, instead, you envelop him in your smoke, and flow right from one vessel into another—his body.

Having a body again is, admittedly, a bit strange. But Daroach’s is strong, filled with magic, and you acclimate easily, stretching your limbs, wiggling your fingers and toes, all of which have become tinged with purple. You can feel him trying to fight you, but really, his little consciousness is no match for your powerful instincts for possession.

You usher the Squeaks along, and they follow you, although not without a good deal of fear. It’s only natural. Their leader is not himself. But—as you explain, as the lot of you flee into space, the small-but-fierce Kirby hot on your tail—you wish them no harm at all. In fact, you’re on their side. And your power melded with Daroach’s? It could stop their pursuer for good.

The Squeaks still look scared, but they nod along. They’re ready to accept your plan. And Daroach, in your head, ceases his cries. You can feel his curiosity, even feel him beginning to extend a cautious trust to you. As you pace around the Squeaks’ makeshift base, waiting for Kirby to arrive, he strikes up a conversation.

_ The ruler of the underworld, hmm? _ you hear him say, with the sort of tone that’s best accompanied by a small smile.  _ Quite the guest to have in my body. Would it be cliché to offer you some tea? _

“I can get some myself,” you murmur aloud, and Daroach chuckles.

_ Of course you can. There isn’t much point in asking, I guess. But you’ll want to be well-fed for our fight with Kirby. _

He has a point. You down a glass of milk and a grilled cheese sandwich, relishing the taste through Daroach’s mouth. You haven’t eaten in years, quite literally.

_ Do you have a name, Lord of the Underworld? _ asks your headspace-companion, when you’ve finished your food and have begun to pace once more.

“Dark Nebula.”

_ Will you live up to it? _

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean!”

_ It sounds like the perfect name for a powerful creature of legend, feared across the galaxy. _

“Are you implying I’m not?”

_ Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we? _

It sounds like he’s teasing you. You don’t respond to that—partly because Spinni has poked their head in, and you suspect that your conversation with Daroach looks an awful lot like one person talking to themself.

When you’re alone again—or, rather, once Spinni has left—you sit on a star block, wondering if there’s anything to do except simply wait. Almost unconsciously, you run your hands down your face, neck, chest, then rest them on your thighs. Daroach is a bit skinnier than you, and certainly more fit—he’s sleek and powerful, and his fashion sense is impeccable. His fingers are slender, dextrous, with magic coursing through them, ready to summon a bomb at any moment.

“Your body’s very nice,” you tell him, then realize that’s kind of a weird thing to say, but Daroach seems to take it as a compliment.

_ I must admit, I’m starting to enjoy having you in here. It’s exciting, in a strange way. _

You feel yourself blush, and apparently Daroach feels it too, because he laughs. Yep, definitely teasing you.

Things kind of go downhill from there.

In battle, you and Daroach are almost equal to the sum of your parts. It’s exhilarating, fighting again like this. Your head-mate offers you tips, practically shouting at you. What a backseat driver—but hey, it’s helpful. The two of you make a good team.

Not good enough, however, to defeat Kirby. With his final blow, he knocks the Triple Star out of your hand, and you out of Daroach. Suddenly you’re as incorporal as before, just a purple star floating over Daroach’s unconscious body. No, no, this isn’t how it was supposed to go at all! You can’t muster the strength to transform into your regular humanoid form (ugh, you already miss having limbs), but maybe being a star with elemental powers is enough?

It’s not. It’s really not. Kirby defeats you easily, especially with the Triple Star in hand, and you melt into nothingness, even weaker than before.

Who  _ is _ this child? A god? A demon? Or have your years stuck in a tiny chest left you unfit for battle? With a little more practice, maybe you’d have been able to do it. But, then again, you’ve never been quite as strong as some of your Dark Matter cousins. Maybe that’s why you were given the task of overlooking the underworld. It’s not like that really involves much fighting.

Right, so now you’re back to the question of: what do you do with your newfound freedom? You suppose you could try to go beat up Kirby again—let him know that he didn’t  _ really _ win, just kicked you into the void for a couple days—but that would be useless, not to mention futile. The Squeaks seem to have made up with him, gotten over all their previous misunderstandings, so there’s no reason you should harbor a grudge.

You… suppose you could go see Daroach again. That would be nice. Just see how he’s doing. Pop over to Kirby’s planet for no reason at all.

After a good deal of searching, when night has fallen, you come across an airship floating in the skies of Planet Popstar that looks quite familiar. Score! In your smoky form, you enter through one of the ducts, streaking through the quiet halls in search of your—your friend? It doesn’t feel like the right word. Former possessee? Sure.

Daroach is sitting in an armchair, alone, in what looks like the common room of the ship. It’s small and cozy—a living room, perhaps—and the only light is the lamp that he’s using to read. You can’t really tell what the book in his lap is, but it’s fairly thick. His hat rests on the table next to him, and he has his cloak pulled up about him and is laying his legs on a footrest.

When you enter, sliding beneath the door, Daroach looks up, eyes narrowing. He can sense the presence in the room, even if you’re just smoke. His gaze finds you, the haze of tiny purple stars giving you away.

“Is that you, Dark Nebula?” he calls.

You materialize into a humanoid form, grateful to be solid again. A little too late, you realize just how ridiculous you look—your clothes are dark purple and baggy, and you’re wearing a pointy hood, giving you the appearance of a deflated starfish. There’s a violet circle in the middle of your shirt, symbolizing your single eye when in star form. Come on, why did you choose your clothes to make you look as much like a cycloptic purple star as possible? Couldn’t you have just loosened up a little in the name of fashion??

Daroach grins. “Must say, that’s not how I was expecting you to look.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Something a little more…” His eyes sweep up and down your form. “...Regal, perhaps?”

“Shut up! I look great.”

He puts down his book, leaning forward. You can now see its cover—it’s an adventure novel, possibly one about pirates. “I wasn’t expecting you to come back, either. I thought you were gone for good.”

“Are you glad to see me?”

“And surprised. Why are you here?”

You take a couple steps forward. “I, uh, well, I wanted to see you again.”

“Ah.” Daroach springs to his feet and saunters over to you, stopping when you’re a yard or so apart. He’s a good head taller than you, and to be honest, it’s a little intimidating. Not to mention that you’re still not used to, well, having a body.

“How’d it go with Kirby?” you ask, resorting to small talk in place of anything deep and serious.

“He’s a good kid. Turned out he was just chasing after me because he thought I’d stolen his shortcake, which was, well, not entirely false.”

“Did you give his shortcake back?” is somehow the most pressing question in your mind at that moment.

Daroach chuckles. “Yes, eventually. I felt bad for him. But it was quite the misadventure. I also ended up entirely misjudging what was in your chest, for example.”

“What did you think it was?”

“Oh, an ancient power source, something along those lines. But I suppose I still got what I was looking for, didn’t I?”

You find yourself smiling along with him. “Yeah, I’m ancient and powerful, I guess? Er… not  _ that _ ancient, really.” Or all that powerful, come to think of it. You sigh. “Never mind. I’m glad it all worked out somehow, even if we lost.”

“Hm.” Daroach moves an inch closer, frowning in apparent curiosity. “That’s not a sentiment you hear from a Dark Matter being every day. I’m assuming you  _ are _ Dark Matter, of course—?”

“Why not?”

“It’s just that Dark Matter tend to be very… goal-oriented. Taking over planets and such. That’s not what you were trying to do, is it?”

You shrug. Maybe you would’ve been into that if Kirby hadn’t kicked your ass so thoroughly. Taking over a planet could be cool, but you doubt you’d be able to, even if you wanted to.

“I see.” Daroach pauses, then steps away from you, crossing over to the tiny counter in the corner of the room, which houses a coffee maker, some glasses, a water cooler, and a cup of teabags and other assorted drinks-related items. “Tea? I’m not a fan myself, but I thought I’d offer ‘cause I can actually make some for you, this time around.”

“Sure.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t really mind.”

As Daroach prepares your tea, you take the opportunity to look around the room some more. Apart from Daroach’s armchair, the furniture consists of two big couches, a table, and another, smaller chair. Space for all the important Squeaks to sit, you guess. The space is also filled with what look like old paintings of boats. One in particular that catches your eye is of a ship being attacked by a tentacled sea monster.

Your host returns with a steaming hot mug, and you take a cautious sip. Okay, no, you don’t really like this either, but it’s not like you’re going to mention that. You put it on the counter and hope Daroach won’t notice if you don’t pick it up again.

“Tell me.” His eyes are fixed on you in a manner that you can’t describe, somewhere in between scrutiny and playfulness. It makes your heart beat a little faster. “Did you  _ really _ come all this way just to say hello?”

“Um, I wanted to thank you too.”

“For releasing you?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if my motives were somewhat selfish?”

“Hey, you still freed me, so. I’m still grateful.”

He smirks. “Are you eternally indebted to me now? Could I ask you for three wishes, perhaps? A favor? Is that how it works?”

“You want a favor??”

“Quit looking so scared; I’m just teasing.”

“Well…” Should you ask? It’s silly, really—but the idea won’t leave your mind. “Actually, I kind of had a favor to ask you? Er, not quite a favor, but. Something to ask of you.”

His eyebrows rise. “Oh?”

You consider how to phrase it, heart now pattering too quickly. “I kind of… wanted your body again, if you know what I mean.”

Daroach blinks, then his face morphs into a sly grin. In the wink of an eye, he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you close to him before you can protest. Whoa, whoa, okay, you guess this is what you’re doing now. He  _ is _ very warm, though, and you kind of cling to him, despite your confusion. “Well! I’m not opposed. I’ve had stranger lovers. Shall we move to my bedroom, then?”

Oh, sweet Void in the heavens, that was  _ not _ a good way to phrase it at all. “Wait—no—that really isn’t what I meant—I meant I wanted to be  _ in _ your body, not—” Oh  _ shit, _ that still sounds like an innuendo. “I mean. You know. Merge with you again.”

“Oh!” Daroach’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go of you just yet. “I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Are you, uh, still interested, then?”

He puts his other arm around your back. Now he’s practically hugging you to his chest, and it’s… very nice, actually. Maybe you could just stay like this for a bit. “Very interested. Intrigued, you might say. How does it work, then?”

Okay. Okay. Your head is still reeling from being  _ way _ closer to him than you were a minute ago, but hey, he’s given you permission to go through with what you asked for, hasn’t he? So you just let yourself dissipate, melt into him until he’s only holding smoke, and then air.

_ Hello again, _ says Daroach in your head.

“Hi,” you whisper.

It’s different this time. Different because you’re not teaming up to fight someone, different because you both asked for this, it’s not a surprise. You fold your arms around yourself as if hugging someone inside you, noticing their familiar purple tinge again.

_ Do you want to do anything in particular? _

You shrug. You wonder if he knows why you’ve been craving this experience so much. How much of your mind can he read while you’re in here? You think you can feel some of his emotions, but it’s also hard to tell which of them are yours and which are his. (There’s a tiny part of you that wants to unfuse and kiss him, but you don’t know if that’s you or him thinking that. Does it even matter?)

_ My crew have been calling us Dark Daroach, _ your head-mate tells you, and you assume that means the purplish Daroach-like form you’re in now.  _ Do you think it fits? _

“That’s kinda boring.”

_ Well, we _ do _ look like me, but… darker. _

“What about Purple Daroach?”

_ That’s silly. “Dark” is in your name; it fits better. _

“Ha. Right.”

You amble around the space, shaking your hands out, trying to feel every inch of your body. It really feels right—you feel in sync with your companion. And powerful. Wonderfully powerful. You jump into the air and walk a couple paces, then spin around in a sort of imperfect pirouette, holding out your arms to feel the air glide past, no ground underneath your feet. It’s so much more  _ real _ than your own body. Living and breathing, and not held together by smoke and stars.

_ Can I ask you something? _

“Yeah?”

_ How was your fight against Kirby? _

You grimace, although you have no one to see your face. “Awful. I was totally unprepared.”

_ Do you think we were more fit to take him on together than separately? _

“Yeah.” You run your hands through your hair, marvelling at its length and smoothness. Does Daroach feel it like that—that he’s somehow doing the action too? Or to him, does it feel like  _ you’re _ playing with  _ his _ hair? “One of the reasons I wanted to, um, share your body again, was that—ugh, no, this is gonna sound stupid.”

_ Go ahead. _

“That, like, I didn’t feel whole by myself? That being in that box for so long might’ve drained me of  _ something, _ I dunno what, and—yeah. Being with you brought it back again.”

You shut up, embarrassed at sharing such deep feelings. But Daroach just seems to nod knowingly, and says,  _ I was wondering if that might be the case. _

“Do you feel like that too?”

_ Not really, _ he tells you, and your heart sinks a little. He must feel that, because he quickly elaborates.  _ Which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy your company! Having you in here is, well. _

“Is what?”

_ It’s rather intimate, isn’t it? Cozy? _

It is. You nod, running your hands down the sides of your torso and resting them on your hips. “Nothing like I’ve felt before.”

_ Do you want to go outside to the deck? _ he asks after a moment.

“Won’t your crew see us?”

_ They should all be asleep by now. Well, except Doc. But he’s not gonna leave the engine room. May I? _

“May you what?”

_ Take over. I don’t think you know the way. _

“I’m… not sure how to let you.”

But that feeling is coming back, the one which makes it feel like Daroach is fighting against your control. But this time, it’s not really  _ fighting, _ per se. Just a request. You close your eyes, relax, feel the tension leave you as Daroach regains control over his own body.

He moves, and you move with him, out the door, down the hallway, past doors and windows, then out onto the deck of the airship. It’s small—no furniture or anything, just a little bit of floor and a railing—and its view is spectacular. You can see a good chunk of Dreamland from here, through the massive, cotton-candy like clouds. The ship isn’t moving, but there’s a cool night breeze, and it flows towards you, tossing your hair back. Daroach throws his arms out by his sides and leans into the wind like the figurehead of a boat. Air ripples across every surface of your body, stars splatter across the sky like a river of glowing sand, and by god do you really feel alive.

You stand there for a couple minutes, hands falling back at your sides, and you’re not really sure who’s in control anymore, but it doesn’t matter, does it. You’re just here. Being you, whatever that means. Staring into the dark night and thinking thoughts that may or may not be your own.

“Are you tired?” asks Daroach out loud, and you figure that he’s taken over again.

_ I don’t need to sleep, _ you say.

“Would you like to?”

You think about the pseudo-sleep that consumed you while you were trapped in the chest. Maybe having some  _ actual _ rest would be good for you.  _ All right. Where? _

Daroach whirls around and marches back the way you came, stopping by the common room to pick up his hat and his book. You go up a floor, and the stairs creak in a way that seems more endearing than frightening for a ship up this high in the air. (Not that you’d  _ need _ to be frightened. You can literally fly. It’s just easy to forget about when you’re in a form so suited for land.)

Being the leader of the Squeaks, Daroach’s quarters are probably a bit larger than most. The entire room has a sort of steampunk pirate aesthetic that fits him very well—part of it is unavoidable, given all the metal tubes and plating around the entire ship—but he clearly curates the space very carefully. There are dozens of shelves, filled with objects on display, from tiny jewels to huge statues of ancient gods. Bits and pieces of old technology, humongous geodes split down the middle, pristinely polished necklaces and tiaras. It’s really quite an impressive collection, and you have no doubt that Daroach stole all of it. His bed is in the center of the room, with two large, fluffy pillows, and crimson-colored sheets. A small window in the back gives you a view outside into the grey clouds. Funny—you did in fact end up at Daroach’s bedroom, just in a bit of a different context.

Your host closes the door, throws his hat onto a marble bust (of some guy who was clearly very important at one time or another, and is now being used as a hat stand), kicks off his boots, and passes by a golden mirror, another artifact in his collection. It’s large and ornate, but has no wings or any other adornment that you might expect from such a fancy mirror. Reflected in it, you see yourself, a dark purplish version of Daroach, smiling.

“Would you like to unfuse now?” he asks.

Not really, no. You’d like to stay like this forever. But you also don’t want to overstay your welcome. You pull yourself out of Daroach’s body, a shining purple star emerging from his chest, then shift back into your humanoid form, poofy pants and all. You don’t have time to worry about fashion right now. Especially not when your companion’s eyes are fixed on you like  _ that. _ You don’t think you could pull your attention away.

“Well, Dark Nebula. That was certainly the experience. Thank you.”

His arms have snaked around your waist again somehow. Feeling his touch from your own body is strange, but electrifying. “Thank  _ you. _ Could we… do it again sometime?”

“Definitely. Sometime. For now, well.” He brings a hand up to caress your face, and you feel your cheeks get warm. You notice his nails are painted a soft yellow. “There are things you can do as two people that you can’t do as one. For example…”

He leans in and kisses you. It’s short and sweet, but when he tries to break away, you fling your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You want to be as close to him as you can be without melting into his body. It’s a strange urge, not one you’ve even come close to feeling before. Maybe it’s being trapped in a box for so long that got you like this. Whatever the case, it feels amazing.

“Whoa there,” says Daroach, gently pushing you away, and you realize that your arms have begun to fade into his shoulders, dark smoke wafting up from them. “I love you, Nebby, but you’ve got to control yourself. Can’t have you phasing into me while I’m trying to kiss you.”

“Oh. Sorry.” You have to just stop and stare, processing that helluva sentence he just threw at you. “Wait, Nebby??”

“Yes, it’s cute.”

“Listen! I am an ancient demon god of the under—”

He cuts you off by kissing you again, and okay, you can’t stay mad at him for that. You  _ suppose _ the nickname is kind of cute. Just a little.

“So, Nebby,” he says after a minute. “It is awfully late. Would you care to join me in bed?” Before your face can get  _ too _ red or you can stutter out a flustered  _ “no thanks,” _ he clarifies, “No, not like  _ that, _ of course. But believe me when I say there’s nothing better than falling asleep with someone you want to be close to.”

He sits on the bed and extends a hand to you. All of a sudden, two visceral emotions bubble to the surface of your mind. One can eloquently be described as  _ what in the name of Hades am I doing?? _ Dark Matter beings don’t fraternize with those outside, let alone kiss them or form relationships! Possession is a tool for warfare, not something to be done consensually!

But, well, Daroach is very warm, and very lovely, and very ready to cuddle you, despite having known you for just a couple days. And it isn’t like you have anywhere else to go. Everyone but Daroach thinks you’re dead, which is strangely freeing.

You don’t move. “What—what if someone sees us?”

“The other Squeaks wouldn’t enter my room without permission. But if they did find out… well, let’s just say I have had more… unusual partners.” He winks. “Besides. Forbidden romance is exciting. But if you’re not inclined, I certainly won’t make you.”

Okay, what the hell. You remove your shoes and slip into bed next to him. Daroach grins, and snaps his fingers, and all the lights in the room go out. An impressive piece of tech, that, you think, as you nestle in, resting your head against your partner’s chest. You wonder where he got it.

Sleeping doesn’t come easily to you, but, wrapped up in Daroach’s embrace, hearts beating as one, you feel like you might just doze off. It’s the same cozy feeling you get from sharing a body, just two people instead of one.

Yeah. You think you could get used to this.

You’re jolted awake the next morning by the sudden realization that Daroach isn’t next to you. That anxiety quickly fades when you notice your hands in front of you, dark and purplish, and a familiar laugh in your head. Embarrassed, you jump out of Daroach’s body and reform yourself in his lap. He’s chortling out loud now, but it fades into a smile when he sees you. No one has ever looked at you like this before, and it makes you feel like you’re glowing.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

You nod, too dazed to speak. Light streams through the window and glints off the various treasures in the room, little sparkles of red and silver and gold.

“Could I stay here for a bit?” you say suddenly.

“In bed? Or on the ship?”

“On the ship.”

“Of course. You’d have to meet the crew properly, though.”

“Right. That’s okay. They seem cool.”

Daroach grins, clapping you on the shoulder. “Fantastic. Welcome aboard, Nebby.”


End file.
